A Guiding Hand
by LadyMythGirl
Summary: Stamford is in a bind and asks Molly to take on the duty of watching over several forensic medical students while juggling all the excitement and mayhem that comprises of being Sherlock Holmes' pathologist. She gets more than she had ever wanted in the chaos that ensues...while at the same time maybe getting something she didn't realize she needed quite so badly. Sherlolly.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

_I know I haven't updated Masquerade in close to a year. It's atrocious and it pisses me off. I am hoping to have more time here in the future to rectify this. In the meantime, I am trying to get my writing juices flowing again. So here's my venture into that! I am planning on this being little short chapters as scenes come to me, but the first couple of chapters will be longer to set the story. Barts has an international reputation as being one of the most medically-focused research centers on the planet. I never seem to find any fanfics centering around what Molly does other than medical autopsies, which if she is at Barts, I can bet you a million that is only a small bit of what she _actually _does there. I want to explore that and give her character some more dimension. Also, Sherlolly. _

_TL:DR I want to explore Molly's duties at Barts, how it works with Sherlock being around, new people, and give Molly the family she deserves. _

**Disclaimer**_: I don't own shit. We know this. Enjoy what I've managed to punch out without expectation of like anything ever coming from it. _

**A Guiding Hand**

_Prologue_

"I know you have a lot on your plate, my dear, but I thought I'd at least ask." Mike Stamford smiled gently at the petite woman, knowing that the odds were Molly were too sweet to deny his request.

He honestly really hoped she would. The poor girl never gave herself any chance to rest. The only reason he was asking was because it was procedure, and in order to gain permission to list a hiring advertisement, he had to be able to prove he had legitimately asked all of his staff if they could assist him first. He had saved young Molly Hooper for last. Hoping that one of the others would have warned her and she'd have come to the decision already to deny him.

"Well, it's only for this year, correct?" Molly's lips were pursed as she gazed absently at the lab data on the screen before her.

She had been working very hard on her latest research project, and was fully aware of the setbacks she would experience if she agreed to Mike's proposition.

"I am hoping so. I really think you shouldn't agree, dear! You already work so hard. Your hours are scattered as they are! Not to mention with the NSY constantly paging you…"

Molly chuckled, "Mike, you know I voluntarily agree to all of that. And it's not as if I have much of a home life right now…"

She didn't catch Mike's wince. The poor girl's work load hardly enabled her to change her situation. Her engagement of only 6 months ago had quickly snuffed it, what with the return of Sherlock Holmes. And anybody with half a brain understood that once Sherlock Holmes was back, murder and mayhem would once again take over the operations of St. Bart's Pathology Department. It was profitable for the department, believe it or not, since they had an outstanding grant that they received from Her Majesty's Government's Research Division. Part of the grant's guidelines had been allowing third party consultants frequent access to St. Bart's labs and participation in the student experimentation stores. It didn't take any sort of a genius to figure out why that clause was specifically in there.

"I think yes. I can do it. I already do the tours and I helped Daniel with the lab instructions when he was still around," Molly nodded firmly, turning a warm smile in Mike's direction.

"Molly, please, give it some more thought-"

She shook her head and stood up, "It's done, Mike. Now what do I have to do to make sure everything is set up for the students?"

A tired sounding sigh escaped his lips, "Let's sojourn to my office, yes? We will have to discuss any certificates we may need you to get in order to fulfill the position to the satisfaction of the board. Also, if you are determined to help out, we are certainly going to rearrange your schedule. I can't have you falling dead on the job, what with your new responsibilities. Oh God, that was a _terrible_ joke!"

Molly burst into laughter, reaching out to pat him on the arm, "It's all right!"

Mike flushed red, but continued to lead her to his work space, "I am so mortified! I tell you it's entirely too easy to have such a morbid sense of humor down here!"

"I think you mean a _morgue_-sense of humor."

Mike groaned, "Saints preserve us Hooper!"

Molly just giggled.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**_Sorry for this bit! I am establishing some stuff. Bear with me!_

**Disclaimer:** _*standard fill in* I'll let you know if I ever buy the damn rights. How does that sound?_

**A Guiding Hand**

_Let's Begin at the Start_

Molly shoved her half-full coffee mug away from her, the liquid sloshing up and splattering across her paperwork. Groaning, she feebly attempted at dabbing away the little puddles with a tissue.

_This is silly. This is not the first time I've taught!_ Molly grumbled internally, cursing her damp palms and quivering limbs. She had way too much caffeine in the last hour, but she hardly knew what to do with herself. Mike had made sure to not assign any autopsies to her for the morning, with the thought that she could use the first half of her shift to prepare for her class in the afternoon. It had only served to make her more nervous than anything else.

She glanced over the lab to the table designated as Sherlock's. She could've used him today. No matter how inconsequential the reason, his presence would've distracted her from her concerns.

_Oh who am I kidding? He'd only add to my anxiety. Probably deduce everything in a heartbeat! I can hear it now: 'Playing dress up Molly? Honestly, that skirt could have belonged to my grandmother. Clearly trying to make a professional statement. The ink stains on your right hand…up late compiling some sort of a planner. Students? No, Molly, not _again_. You better keep them away from my experiments!—'_

"'Surely you remember the _last_ time'." Molly finished out loud, shaking her head. She knew that the last thing she needed was Sherlock scaring off the new students, but what could she do?

Turning her eyes heavenward, and while she hadn't practiced since she was a teenager, Molly did a quick sign of the cross praying for strength . She already knew the potential disasters that could come from the combination of the surly consulting detective and stressed out students.

Before Sherlock had swept in and claimed the Barts' lab and pathology department as practically his own, the place had been flooded constantly with forensic students and researchers. Barts and the London Hospital had joined with the Queen Mary, University of London, in the early nineties in order to create one of the leading learning centers that produced some of the most advanced research in medicine on the planet.

Molly had been attracted to the facilities, especially with the constant push to have the latest equipment and technology, and had aggressively pursued her forensic medical sciences and forensic pathology degrees. After interning, she had been one of only three students in her graduating class to be offered a job within Barts. She'd become an instant hit with the professionals that frequented her area of the hospital. What with her eye for detail, her eagerness to please, her intellect, and her great capacity for kindness, she'd quickly been accepted into the fold.

There were a fair amount of experiments that she had become instrumental in, while tackling on the partnership with NSY and filling their need for a team of qualified medical examiners. The higher-ups had been pleased to see someone so young and new to the field to be more than happy to perform any level task set before her. More often it led to Molly spending her shifts filling in for other pathologists and carefully watching over others' experiments, but she didn't mind. She utilized the time to really hone her skills and develop her theories.

Now, six years later, she was well on her way to being one of the most credible researchers Barts had ever produced. She had released a handful of papers on a number of pathology subjects, with one particularly leading to further advancements in cellular decomposition identification. She frequently teamed with the Blizard Institute of Cellular and Molecular Science professors in project development and management of their research. While being known for her quiet and unassuming manner, she was an intellectual to be reckoned with if her research was brushed off by others.

It was occasionally passed around in the break-rooms that she would be further ahead if it weren't for her most time-consuming duty: that of being the wrangler of Sherlock Holmes. Molly's propensity for kindness and willingness to please had set her in the sights of the detective the first time he had met her. He had quickly wrapped her around his fingers, using her to gain access to much more of Barts' facilities than what NSY had accorded to him.

After only a week of interactions, Her Majesty's Government had offered a rather generous research grant in which the hospital would have been beyond foolish to refuse. While Molly's crush was clearly evident, what hadn't been so was the request by the Board of Directors of her to basically become Sherlock's unofficial supervisor. It was glorified babysitting most days, but Molly hadn't minded in the least. In return, the research budget for her department had nearly doubled.

Of course, she had certainly been wearing rose-colored glasses concerning the situation. She had put her own projects on hold far too often in order to assist Sherlock with his own. She had sacrificed her rare days off to respond to Sherlock's, usually pitifully lame, demands of her presence. But she had felt that she was doing something for the greater good, while getting quite the eye-candy to ogle while doing so.

It had taken nearly two years for it to really sink in that Sherlock would never see her as more than a medical examiner and research partner though. The disastrous Christmas party at Baker street had effectively opened her eyes. While she still aided Sherlock, she had started to return to the things that made her Molly Hooper Getting Shit Done and not Molly Has Eyes For Only Sherlock. It had been an ongoing struggle for her until Moriarty and the Fall.

She couldn't articulate it to this day all the emotions she'd experienced over the 24 hour period of planning, executing, and surviving Sherlock's suicide. All she knew was that she had counted and that it had been vitally important that she protect Sherlock with everything she had. For two years, she did just that. While she didn't see him, she had worried and dreamed up of every terrible scenario that could befall him while he embarked on the destruction of Moriarty's network.

She had poured herself back into research. In the two years of Sherlock's absence, she had written and published three papers and aided in the re-design of an electrical microtome. She had effectively proven to her gossiping co-workers that without Sherlock around, Molly grew by leaps and bounds. She had shone academically, even if she had avoided social obligations as much as possible during that time. She had met Tom one day at one of the few parties her university friends had held. He'd been kind and attentive, and just what she needed to really come back to herself . She had been content and had believed that that would be enough for a life together. However, Sherlock's return had proven to her how wrong she'd been.

It had been like holding a firefly while the sun blazed right in front of her.

It hadn't been easy but it was what it was and she hoped that Tom would forgive her eventually. As Sherlock gathered his friends back to him, she returned to being Molly Hooper the Wrangler. Sherlock returned to her lab and had begun once again to terrorize the staff. Her department had been quickly vacated by the researchers unless during normal work hours, the time known as least likely for the detective to be around, or a mass "Deerstalker Sighting All Clear" email made it through the ranks for the day.

Molly had been determined though not to return to her old habits of allowing Sherlock to consume her working, well waking, hours. It wasn't easy, but she was slowly getting how to ignore his demands for coffee and remind him that he knew out to use haemocytometer as well as she did. The man had graduated with a Chemistry degree for heaven's sake.

Molly rubbed a hand across her forehead, trying to dispel her thoughts.

"You're frowning pretty deeply there, Molly. Worried about your first meet-up?" Mike asked quietly from beside her.

Molly's jumped causing a rumbling laugh to erupt from her companion.

"Sorry. Got lost there for a while," she smiled sheepishly, "And yes I am."

Mike shook his head, "You'll be just fine. You do wonderfully with the lab students, you've got little to worry about today. I imagine you'll hardly notice them. You'll keep a handle on them while allowing them to flourish. Lord knows you've had plenty of practice!"

Molly's brown eyes shifted to stare at the wall, "True. But this is different. These students…I am helping _make_ them into who they want to be."

Mike reached up and squeezed her arm gently, "Don't worry too much. You're just going to make sure they head in the right direction."

She nodded and turned to gather her papers, "It's just…first time and all that. I can't imagine they'd listen to me much."

"You're one of our brightest forensic specialists! They'd be stupid to ignore you!" Mike scoffed, "And don't you let anyone _ever_ make you think different!"

Molly sent him a soft smile full of gratitude. She bowed her head and headed out of their lab and toward the meeting room.

"Good luck!" Mike called, grinning.

"Oh!" the exclamation sounded right before Molly's face reappeared in the doorway, "Don't forget! You're on Sherlock duty!"

Mike's face looked like he had bitten into a lemon, "Oh, bugger."

Molly giggled, wiggling her fingers in goodbye and disappearing once more.


End file.
